An Alignment of Interests
by dualce
Summary: Poland sees Sweden being a good, caring father to Sealand, and slowly they develop a friendship that leads to something more. Lots of misunderstandings complicate the situation. Check out the beginning chapter for more notes.
1. Chapter 1

Written months ago for the kink meme, the prompt was Sweden/anyone – someone finds Sweden being a good parent incredibly sweet and sexy. This fic was a real frustration for me to complete (plus I've never written Sweden or Poland before), but I don't think I'll ever go back and fix it up, so I'll just post it and be done with it! There will be references to past Lithuania/Poland and Sweden/Finland, and also future America/Lithuania and Estonia/Finland.

* * *

"Like, that wasn't the biggest waste of time, ever!" Poland grumped loudly as he shuffled a whole sheaf of papers, his briefcase and two thick wire-bound volumes – the other two safely tucked away in his briefcase – in his hands, all concerning reviews and evaluations for international military and security cooperation. It was only day one of another round of meetings, and Poland felt more irritable than usual because Liet's boss wouldn't let him come. Something about previous commitments and whatever, _blah blah blah. _"Jerk," Poland grumped again. A couple of nations close by gave him a puzzled look, probably wondering who he was referring to.

Poland grunted as he picked up his heavy briefcase and papers and turned to leave. Where was Liet when he needed him to carry stuff?

"Bye Poland!" North Italy waved to him cheerfully from across the room, the other arm around an exasperated Germany.

"See ya Italy!" Poland called back, hands too occupied to wave back. He looked carefully around him at the other nations still in the room. There were a few who hadn't bolted out of there as fast as they could. He should probably say goodbye, just to keep friendly relations.

There was England, with a bad-tempered look on his face, arguing with France – well, maybe he'd skip him. Denmark was just a little ways ago, putting on his long, intimidating black coat. Why did he still wear that thing? Russia was next to him, wearing his usual creepy smile. Whatever, like he was going to go out of his way to talk to _him_. Ok, so next time he would be a little more friendly. Poland wrapped his arms more firmly around the papers and briefcase and started out the door.

Poland sighed and hefted his things more comfortably into his arms as he walked down the hall toward the exit closest to his hotel. A whole week of meetings without Liet here? It was going to be so boring. Plus he had no one to go out to dinners with, and he didn't know this city well enough to be wandering around alone. Maybe he could get North Italy to hang out with him a couple nights. He could even put up with the uptight Germany for that long. The two of them together were pretty funny to watch, and making fun of Germany was definitely a –

There was a _whoosh_ of rushing air, and out of the corner of his eye Poland caught sight of something moving fast. Before he could do anything, something slammed into his legs.

"Wha – ?" Poland felt himself start to fall. He tried to catch himself with his arms, dropping all his documents in the process, and managed to get one arm out. He still hit the ground heavily on his knees, the hand holding the briefcase banging against the floor painfully.

"Owwww! What the hell!" He pulled himself halfway up to see a little kid sitting up, one hand rubbing his head.

"Bloody hell!" The kid grunted, adjusting his sailor cap.

"Hey! What is your problem! Why don't you watch where you're going!" Poland snapped at the kid, sitting back on his heels. The kid jumped up, turning back to stick out his tongue at Poland.

"_You_ watch where you're going!" The kid retorted before taking off down the hall.

"Hey! You little brat!"

"Poland! Are you all right?"

Poland turned to see Finland hurrying down the hall to him. The Nordic nation knelt down next to him, concern peppering his voice. "Are you hurt?"

"Um, kind of! My hand totally hurts now." Poland rubbed the injured limb.

"I'm sorry about that, Peter is a handful sometimes. I'll speak to Sverige about it, don't worry," Finland assured him.

"Huh?" Finland knew that snotty brat? Wow, so the two Nordics had a kid together? This was totally awesome gossip. He so had to tell Liet!

Finland, ascertaining that Poland must be okay, started helping him gather up the loose papers on the floor. "Oh, don't you know? England's kid, well, not that England recognizes him at all, but Sverige sort of adopted him. Usually Sverige sends him home to his...island thing, if he has meetings to travel to, but sometimes Peter sneaks out. Honestly, I don't know how he finds these conferences." Finland shrugged. "Here you go," he said, picking up the last of Poland's papers and handing them over with a smile.

Poland stood up, straightening his uniform. "Thanks," he said, taking the papers with his uninjured hand. The Nordic nation seemed nice. "So that's, like, yours and Sweden's kid?"

"No, no, not _our_ kid. He's just sort of been adopted by Sverige."

Oh. Damn, there goes his good gossip.

"But don't worry, I'll speak to Sverige about his behavior today. In fact, your hand – do you need help back to the hotel? I can go get Sverige – "

Like Poland needed the biggest Nordic nation glaring at him with that frightening look on his face. "Um, no! I'm fine. Really, just a bruise." Poland demonstrated by flexing his hand. "See? Totally fine!"

"Are you sure?" The other nation seemed very concerned.

"Yes! So, like, thanks for your help." Poland reached down and grabbed the heavy briefcase – ouch, that was his bad hand – and nodded at Finland. "See you tomorrow."

"Well, okay, see you tomorrow." Finland smiled at him and waved goodbye.

Poland beat his retreat out of there – not like that, duh – and resolved not to run into any more Nordic-nation-adopted children. Just the thought of Sweden, with his long overcoat and terrifying face staring at him – and Poland had more than enough memories of that face staring at him over the battlefield – he definitely did not need to relive that. Poland shuddered and hurried his steps. Staying in all night in his hotel room didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

* * *

notes:

'battlefield' refers to the Polish-Swedish Wars (and were are alot).

I'm no historian, but will try to reference events here and there.


	2. Chapter 2

I forgot to say – I don't own Hetalia or any characters, or intend any profit off of this.

* * *

Poland arrived for the second day of meetings just a few minutes early. He hoped to see North Italy and ask him about going out for dinner tonight. Last evening had been boring, as Poland suspected it would be. He had watched tv, which was hardly exciting when you couldn't understand what they were saying, and fixed up his nails with a clear polish (another compromise with the boss – Poland was totally professional in meetings, so who cares how he dressed in his free time?) before calling Lithuania to rib him a little about missing the conference.

"_And you shoulda been there to kick that little brat's butt, Liet!"_

_Lithuania's soft chuckle could barely be heard over the long-distance static. "I'm sure you can handle it yourself, Lenkija."_

_Poland snorted. "Yeah, but we're, like, a team."_

_Lithuania sighed. "Lenkija –"_

"_I know, I know." Poland cut him off before he could continue. Seriously, he was so over this whole conversation. They'd only had it about 100 times. "You're dating America. I'm not, like, saying that's a bad thing, you know? But we're still a team, right? Although I totally think you could do better than a dumb blond who's more obsessed with food than with you," he added as an afterthought._

"_He is not –" Lithuania started, exasperated._

"_Sorry, sorry. I'm sure he's fine. I bet he's amazing in bed, actually. With how much he eats, his tongue must be like – "_

"_Poland!"_

_Poland laughed. It was too much fun to tease Lithuania, it almost made up for him not being here. "I'm just kidding. But seriously, still a team, you and me, right?"_

_Lithuania's reassuring, if slightly put out, voice came through. "Of course. I'll always be your backup in fights with 12-year-olds," he said with a hint of sarcasm._

"_Whatever, shut up. He totally came at me in my blind spot. And seriously, he's Sweden's kid. I bet he trained him to do that."_

"_I hardly think he'd do that."_

"_Really, Litwa? Do you remember anything from the 1600s? 'Cause he was a scary mother-effer then, and he still kinda is."_

Speaking of – Poland looked around to see if the tall nation was lurking around. Usually he and the most of the other Nordics could be counted on to show up to meetings early. Poland saw a couple of them across the room, and Finland, noticing his gaze, waved a hello to him.

Poland cautiously waved back with his free hand, the dreaded reviews left at home for a really fun reading session later. He set his briefcase down at the table as Finland made his way through the room towards him.

"Poland, how are you? How is your hand?" Finland asked.

"Oh, it's totally fine, thanks." Poland rubbed it self-consciously. "So, how are you?"

Finland smiled at him. "I'm fine, thank you for asking." They lapsed into a silence. The other nation was really nice, but Poland had no clue what to talk about with him. Luckily the punctual nations were starting to filter over to their seats, some of them physically dragging over the idle ones.

"Well, I better go sit down. Nice talking to you!" Finland said cheerfully, smiling as he left for his seat.

"Okay, see ya," Poland said, taking his own seat.

The meeting stretched on, and on, and on. He sent a couple texts to Liet, just to break up the monotony, but Lithuania was not much for texting, however much Poland hassled the other nation.

The end of the meeting finally arrived, with many of the nations eyeing their watches and cellphones for the last hour, eager to escape. There was a simultaneous rush to the door as soon as Germany gave the dismissal. Poland shot up out of his chair, quickly putting his documents in his briefcase. Today he would catch North Italy and definitely make plans for the evening. No more being stuck in his hotel room.

Poland scanned the room, looking for the other nation. It was crazy how fast some of the nations were; most were already out the door. Looks like Italy had disappeared too. He quickly grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door, ducking around the slow-moving Greece. God, it was so annoying that Liet wasn't here! At the very least Estonia and Latvia should be around, but if Lithuania wasn't here they had a tendency to hide out in order to avoid Russia.

Poland reached the door to the hallway and slowed down. He didn't see North Italy, or Germany, who he would definitely be hanging over. The faster way to reach him might be a phone call. Poland opened his phone up and started scrolling through his contacts, searching for the number. He jumped, startled, as a heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

"God! What – " His voice died in his throat as he spun around to see Sweden staring down at him.

"Uh." Poland stepped back, unconsciously moving his briefcase in front of him as a barrier. The distressingly tall nation was gazing silently down at him, a terrible look on his face. And what the hell had Poland done? Was this about the kid? That kid had bumped into _him_, jeez. No way he should be giving Poland that look.

Poland took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. "What?" he snapped.

The Nordic nation paused for a second. "Heard Peter ran into ya yesterday," he said in a low voice.

"Yeah? So?" Poland gazed up at him defiantly. Sweden stared at him. The moment stretched on. Oh God, what was the other nation going to do? Where was Liet when he needed him?

"Want 'im to apologize. C'mon," Sweden said, turning away and starting to walk down the hall.

He...what? Sweden wanted Poland to go with him? What. The. Hell. Leave the building with this guy? Poland gaped at the broad back, trying to comprehend what was going on. Sweden turned around after a few steps and gave him another terrifying look. "Made 'im wait outside. Not s'posed to be 'ere anyway."

Poland stared at Sweden, who stared back.

"Um, okay?" Poland hesitantly followed after Sweden. He was fine. Totally fine. Nothing bad was going to happen. Poland repeated this mantra to himself as he followed the Nordic nation outside. Sweden motioned him towards a bench, where the kid from yesterday was sitting.

The kid frowned as he saw Poland approach, and crossed his arms in a pout. Poland scowled back at him, the little brat. There was a long pause as no one said anything. Sweden was giving the kid an intense look, but the kid was avoiding looking at him. Wow, this was fun.

"So, like, I haven't got all day," Poland said. The brat shot him a nasty look. Poland glared at him.

"Peter," Sweden said quietly. Peter fidgeted on the bench. Then Sweden did something surprising. He sat down next to the kid and leaned down, speaking softly, his low voice making it difficult for Poland to hear. His hand came up to rest on the boy's shoulder. The kid didn't look the least bit terrified. He even leaned into the touch.

"Sorry," Peter muttered. Then, louder, "Sorry for running into you yesterday, Mr. Poland."

Poland blinked and looked at him, then Sweden. No way. This was way too weird for Poland to even begin to process.

Both Sweden and Peter were looking at him expectantly.

"Um, yeah. F-fine. It's totally fine. Thanks," Poland stammered. He nervously reached up and tucked a loose lock of hair behind his ears with his free hand.

Sweden gave one final squeeze to Peter's shoulder and stood up. "Yer hand?"

"My what? Oh, it's fine. Fer sure, no worries." Poland tucked it behind his back, away from Sweden's dark gaze.

"Hmm." Sweden grunted, eyes traveling back up to stare intensely at Poland.

Poland swallowed. "So, I'll just – "

"Coffee?"

" – be going – wait, what?" Mentally, Poland was completely flailing. This entire exchange was too weird. Sweden was acting – wait for it – nice. First to his kid, and now he was asking Poland if he wanted coffee. This had to be some sort of trick or something.

"Yay! Can I get some scones too? Or maybe some cinnamon buns. You think they have that here?" Peter leapt off the bench, running in front of them.

"Pr'bly." Sweden motioned at Poland to follow him.

"Uh, I should probably – I mean, I have to go to dinner – " Not that Poland had dinner plans, but Sweden didn't need to know that.

Sweden nodded, completely ignoring – or agreeing, who could tell – Poland's comment. "Just coffee," he said, starting toward the street.

"Wait!" Poland was inexplicably following the two down the sidewalk, hurrying his steps to keep up with the taller nation. With Sweden in front of him, wearing his dark blue coat, the people on the sidewalk parted out of the way for them, many of them giving Sweden an apprehensive look. "I mean, like, right before dinner?"

"Fika," was all Sweden said, or what Poland thought he heard over the noise of the crowds. In a minute they were at a coffee shop. Peter darted inside as soon as Sweden had the door open. Sweden stood to the side and held the door open, staring expectantly at Poland.

"Oh, um. Thanks." Poland slipped inside and saw they were in a very modern-looking, brightly colored shop. They stood out a little in their uniforms. Usually he went straight back to his hotel to change, not that he didn't look amazing in his uniform, because he totally rocked it, but he preferred to wear casual clothing when he wasn't at work.

Sweden didn't seem bothered at all, just went straight up to the counter. The employee nodded at him and they conversed briefly. Peter was tugging at Sweden's coat, demanding some kind of sweet roll loudly. Poland stepped back, letting other people move around him. This was getting to be too much. No, no, he had to remain calm. Poland just had to drink a coffee and get out and never repeat this experience ever again.

Sweden turned around and motioned him forward with a sharp movement. "What d'ya want?" he said shortly.

Poland gripped his briefcase tighter. That's right, he had a weapon if he needed it. "I'll take a – " he named off his favorite drink, hoping the employee spoke English. The guy nodded, so he must have, and they moved down the line to pay for their drinks. Poland wondered if he should offer to pay for his. Except that it had been Sweden's idea, so he definitely should be paying for it. The Nordic nation didn't even look at him as he handed the cashier a few bills, so that was good.

They picked up their drinks, and Peter's cinnamon roll, and Sweden immediately moved to sit down at a free table. Poland hesitantly followed him and sat as far away from the other nation as he could get. Unfortunately that put him closer to the kid, who scowled at him and kicked the chair.

"Hey, watch it br – kid," Poland snapped. Probably shouldn't call him a brat in front of his frightening dad.

"It's Sealand," the kid protested. "The Great and Mighty Sealand," he

added with a triumphant flourish of his fork.

"Whatever," Poland muttered, taking a sip of his coffee. Sweden was looking between the two of them, so Poland kept himself from making any more remarks.

He took another sip of his coffee. Sweden seemed fine just sitting there and sipping his coffee, staring at Poland – _scary_ – and there was no way he could have a conversation with the brat. The silence dragged on.

Poland sighed. He was totally going to have to be the one with manners, wasn't he? "So, like, what's a finka?"

"It's fika, you git," Peter glared at him.

"Peter," Sweden growled. Okay, here it was, the act was going to end and Sweden would –

"Sorry," Peter grumbled and shoved another bite of his roll in his mouth.

Act normally? No, act like a father. Wow. Poland's surprise was sky-rocketing.

Sweden turned back to Poland. "It's tradition. Meetin' for tea or coffee."

"Oh. Cool," Poland shrugged his shoulders, then automatically put his hands up to adjust his cape. Sweden was still staring at him with a dark look on his face. "I mean, that sounds totally nice!" Poland tried to assure him. Seriously, what else could he say?

"Yeah." The corner of Sweden's mouth quirked. Was that like a smile or a snarl of anger? It was really time for Poland to get out of here.

He picked up his cup and drank the rest of his coffee quickly, ignoring the slight burn on his tongue.

"So, like, thanks for the coffee!" Poland set his cup down on the table, making to standing up. Sweden's hand suddenly came down on top of his.

Poland jerked back reflexively, pulling his hand away. "Um, what are you doing?"

Sweden slowly drew his hand back to his side. "Yer hand," he said. "Hurt it when Peter ran into ya."

Poland looked down at his hand. "Seriously, it's like nothing." He wasn't such a baby, hello! He was probably older than Sweden. He flexed his hand. It twinged a little. The knuckles were bruised but it wasn't a grave injury.

Sweden slowly sat back in his seat and nodded. "Okay," he said, after Poland gave him a look. That's right, Poland wasn't just a little nation to be pushed around. He reached down for his suitcase and stood up.

"Anyways, so. Thanks for the coffee." Poland pushed his hair back and attempted a smile. If he was going to be polite, might as well go all the way.

Sweden nodded at him again, a dark look on his face. Poland suppressed a shiver and turned and looked at his bratty kid. "And bye...you."

"It's Sealand!"

"Yeah, uh huh. See ya!" Poland turned on his heel and strode through the room. It almost felt like something was bearing into his back. Poland half-turned at the door, using his shoulder to open it, and looked back. Sweden was _still_ staring at him. God, he was such a creeper. Poland quickly exited and practically ran down the street back to his hotel. Okay, so he still had no dinner plans, but at least he had made it through the weirdest encounter ever. And he definitely never had to do it again.

* * *

notes:

the 1600s comment refers to the Swedish Deluge, a series of mid-seventeenth century campaigns in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. During these wars the Commonwealth lost an estimated one-third of its population as well as its status as a great power. Don't mess with Sweden, eh?

Nations that are close to another refer to the other nation in their own language. So, Lithuania calls Poland 'Lenkija', which means Poland in Lithuanian.

Fika is a tradition in which friends, family, and/or colleagues meet for coffee or tea. What's intriguing is that it happens multiple times a day. Before lunch, after lunch, before dinner, after dinner...


	3. Chapter 3

If you're still with me, you deserve a cookie! (or Kanelbulle!)

* * *

Poland stood in front of the mirror, smoothing his blond hair back – flyaways, for real? His hair was going to seriously kill him today. It just would _not_ cooperate. At this rate he was going to be late to the first meeting of the day. Why they had them so early anyways, he had yet to figure out. He could always wear a hat, but that was way too formal for his camel-colored merino sweater. Maybe green hair clips? Those would pick up the green in his eyes and his tie. Sweet, he was totally wearing those today.

One last look and then Poland was out the door. He nodded to Romania as he passed, who was also just stepping out of his hotel room. Like, didn't he know that tiny hats were so last year? Whatever, with those creepy red eyes, Poland was definitely not going to be the one to tell him _that_.

Today was going to be a much better day than the last. Poland hummed to himself as he walked along. Lithuania had definitely been impressed by his survival story last night. Poland couldn't help feeling pretty proud of himself. He had survived the most awkward and terrifying encounter _ever,_ with the scary Nordic and his annoying kid. _And_ he had done his social good deed for the week. Hanging out with Poland's fab self was sure to look good for the other intimidating nation.

Poland entered the conference room feeling much better than before. He had dinner plans tonight with Italy (and probably Germany, then, but whatever, can't win them all), skipping the whole face to face meeting and just sending him a text. Technology was like, so made for Poland.

He settled into his seat just as Germany called the meeting to order. Another long, boring day of talks. He sighed as he leaned back into his seat. Might as well get comfortable.

Poland half-listened as presentations were made, using the time to catch up on other important things. He updated his status and texted Liet, filed his nails down (conferences were always the worst, they gave him too much time to spend picking at his cuticles), and took to checking out the other nations, making mental notes of who needed to update their winter moisturizer (Bulgaria was looking dried out, but then again that was always how he looked). Just a usual meeting really, until he locked eyes with Sweden.

Poland automatically jerked his gaze away. What was the Nordic nation doing? Was he trying to creep out Poland? Wait, wait, maybe he just happened to be glancing that way. Don't freak, casually look over. Poland pretended to reach for his pen, like he was taking notes, haha. Keeping his head tilted down, he looked back over towards Sweden. The other nation was still staring at him. God! What the hell? Poland frowned. Sweden's eyebrow lifted a fraction upwards. Um, okay? What do you think you're doing, creeper? Poland raised his one of his own up in return. The corner of the Sweden's mouth quirked. Okay, what's so funny? Poland narrowed his eyes again. Sweden still had his mouth quirked, but nodded just teeny bit towards Poland. Or past him. What...?

"Excuse me, Poland, do you have a question?" Germany, always the moderator, asked loudly. Belgium, who was presenting, paused to look down the table at him.

Poland realized he was leaning over the table, hand stretched forward. The nations who were still awake were staring at him.

"Um, no!" He scrunched back in his seat. Ohmigod, this is awkward, everyone was so starting at him. He crossed his arms over his chest and concentrated on looking serious and whatever. Belgium continued on and eventually everyone turned their attention back to her.

Poland carefully kept his body angled towards the front, like he was doing the same. After what he deemed an appropriate amount of time he slowly, slowly turned his head to see if the cause of his trouble was still – _God!_ Sweden was still looking at him, this time clearly laughing, if that odd quirk of the lips meant anything. Poland shot him a fierce scowl, and then stuck out his tongue for good measure, before turning back towards the front of the table and resolutely not looking Sweden's way for the rest of the presentations.

Finally Germany dismissed them all for an hour's lunch break. Poland was still feeling a little embarrassed – and therefore a little grumpy – as he packed away his briefcase. He adjusted his hair clip before it fell out of his hair, then picked up his briefcase and turned to go find some lunch. Seriously, where was Latvia and Estonia? Poland had checked the attendees list again, and they were _supposed_ to be at this conference. He had totally taken care of them during the sixteenth century, you'd think the least they could do was stop by and say hi.

Anyways. Poland headed outside into the hallway. There was a cute little cafe that he had passed by on his way over, he would go there for a quick bite before the lunch hour was up. That is, if the scary jerk Nordic would get out of his way. Then, once Denmark moved, of course Sweden was standing in front of him, too.

Sweden looked down at him. "Mornin'."

"It's afternoon, duh," Poland couldn't help but roll his eyes at him, although he probably shouldn't be getting on the Nordic's bad side. Then again, he had made him look ridiculous in front of everyone, and Poland was totally a pro at not getting caught at world meetings. He folded his arms and glared at Sweden.

Sweden just shrugged. "Lunch?"

"Yeah, that's what we usually do during lunch break."

Sweden just nodded like he hadn't heard the sarcasm. "Right, c'mon." He waved his hand forward and turned around to start walking down the hall.

"Wait, what?" Poland glared at the retreating back and just barely refrained from stomping his foot. What was with this guy telling him what to do all the time? And ignoring him when he talked, or staring at him randomly, God.

Poland huffed in annoyance as he caught up to the longer strides of the other nation. "Um, _hello_," he said, glaring at Sweden.

Sweden paused to finally listen to him, except he was actually holding the door open for Poland to pass through first. _Fine._ Poland marched through the door out into the courtyard. Then he turned around and boxed Sweden into the door.

"I never said I was, like, going_,_" Poland snapped.

There was a long silence as Sweden just looked at him. "M'treat," he replied.

"That's not – I meant, like – ugh!" Poland threw up his hand (the one that wasn't holding the briefcase). Sweden blinked, but didn't say anything. He just kind of looked at Poland, and they were totally blocking other people trying to get through the door.

"You're like, so weird," Poland muttered.

"Huh?" Sweden asked.

"Nothing!"

Someone jostled Poland from behind, trying to get behind him. "God, people," Poland scowled. Someone muttered something distinctly unflattering back. It was lunchtime so of course there was a million people trying to get through the door. Sweden seemed totally unfazed, but then, people weren't bumping into him.

"Okay, fine_,_" Poland snapped, when it became clear the staring contest wasn't going to get them anywhere. He turned around to get out of the way, and suddenly people were miraculously moving out of his path. That was probably because Sweden was also standing just behind him, if the looks of terror were anything to go by.

"Here," Sweden murmured, and a warm hand wrapped around his elbow and propelled him towards the open street. He was released a few seconds later at the sidewalk, and once again was following Sweden's broad back as he pushed his way through the crowds. Shortly they were at the same coffee place they were yesterday.

"Really? Weren't we just here?" Poland wrinkled his nose.

Sweden turned to say something to him but was interrupted by his kid.

"Berwald!" The kid yelled and waved furiously from an armchair in the back corner. At least he was smart enough not to yell the nation's name.

Sweden raised a hand in acknowledgement and went over to him. Poland followed.

"Peter," Sweden said, and the kid grinned up at him. He caught sight of Poland and glowered.

"What is _he_ doing here?"

Poland glared back and wondered the same thing. Shouldn't the kid be at home or something?

Sweden ignored his question. "What d'ya want to eat?"

"Kanelbulle!" Peter chirped, asking a cinnamon roll.

Sweden shook his head. "Food first, then sweets."

Peter pouted. "Fine, I want a sandwich."

"C'n ya save us a couple of chairs, then?"

"Finnnne," Peter sighed loudly and dramatically.

"Th'nks," Sweden reached down and squeezed Peter's shoulder. Peter sighed theatrically but didn't shrug off his hand.

Poland watched their interaction, standing back a bit. Sweden sure was..._nice_ to this kid. Even though he was actually England's. It was so weird.

Sweden motioned him to follow him up the counter where they stood behind a few other people, waiting to order.

"So, like..." Poland trailed off. "You and, um." He waved his hand towards Peter. Was there any polite way to ask this question? A few hundred years of conquering and being conquered and Poland had yet to figure it out. "How did you get him?"

Sweden didn't say anything for a few moments, seeming to stare off in thought. "Ebay," he said finally.

Poland stared at him. "Are you serious?"

Sweden nodded.

"But _why_?" Wait, that totally sounded rude. Oh God, he was going to get killed.

Sweden didn't seem to take offense. He blinked. He opened his mouth to speak then abruptly closed it again. He took his glasses off and polished them on his shirt. He put them back on. "Dunno," he finally muttered.

Poland couldn't – for once, haha, Liet would never believe this – think of what to say. Why would...why...just, seriously, why? He stared at Sweden. This guy was becoming a lot less scary and more just totally weird.

They finally reached the counter and ordered and picked up their food, then went back to find Peter had moved over to an open table and gotten some chairs.

They sat down so Peter was between them. Peter took one look at his sandwich and frowned.

"This looks bloody awful," Peter complained.

Sweden took a bite of his own sandwich and chewed thoroughly before replying. "Got'ta try it first."

Poland was totally enjoying his own soup and salad. God, kids were so picky these days. He remembered Estonia and Latvia had eaten whatever was in front of them, back in the day. Although they had done all the cooking and stuff, so maybe that was why.

The kid was poking at his sandwich, lifting up the bread and peering underneath.

"Is it turkey? I hate turkey!"

"'s turkey. You ate some the other –" Sweden started.

"I hate it!"

Sweden leveled a look at the kid. "Mine's ham."

Peter looked mutinously at his own sandwich. "I hate turkey," he pouted, crossing his arms.

"Trade, then."

"But you _ate_ some already!"

"Just 'ave to finish it." Sweden waited patiently, more patiently than Poland would have thought, for the kid to make up his mind.

"Fine, I'll eat yours," he grumbled. Sweden switched plates with him. Peter poked a little more at the sandwich, then turned it and started eating from the other uneaten end. Damn, Sweden managed him so well. Maybe manage wasn't quite the right word. He totally acted like a father, which Poland hadn't really thought possible of any of any nations.

Sweden caught him staring and gave him a look as if to say, _Kids, right?_ Poland hastily gave him a half smile in return. They ate their meals in relative silence, Poland not really feeling up to carrying on the burden of the conversation. Sealand, for all his whining, was still the first to finish. Sweden and Poland finished up soon after that, and then the silence became really awkward for Poland.

"So – " Poland started, then trailed off.

Sweden stood up with a grunt, collecting all the plates. "Coffee," he said quietly as he left the table.

"Um, what?"

"He's going to get some coffee," Peter said, his tone clearly saying he thought Poland was stupid for not knowing.

"Oh." Poland reached up to readjust his barrettes. Peter noticed his actions and narrowed his eyes.

"Why're you wearing hair clips?"

"Why not?"

Peter frowned at him. Then he looked straight at Poland's chest, suspiciously. "You're a...?"

"No, I'm not a girl, duh." Poland rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe Sweden wasn't much of a dad. He clearly needed to explain a few things to his kid.

Sweden came back then with three cups and a kanelbulle for Peter. He set them down before settling back into his chair. "Hot chocolate," he explained as he slid one in front of Peter.

Poland took a sip of his and was pleasantly surprised to find Sweden had apparently remembered what he had ordered yesterday. "Sweet, thanks!"

"Welcome," Sweden grunted.

"So, like," Poland searched for a topic. He couldn't talk about meeting stuff in front of the kid, and...that pretty much left him with nothing to say. "Um. Like, coffee, huh?" Wow, that was pretty bad.

"Duh," Peter sarcastically mimicked back to him.

"Peter," Sweden rumbled threateningly.

"What? Obviously, you love coffee, you drink a million cups a day!"

Sweden looked amused at the exaggeration.

"Really? So, like, how can you ever sleep?" Poland asked.

"S'fine, doesn't keep me up."

And then they lapsed back into silence. Oh, good, this isn't awkward at all, Poland thought, mentally rolling his eyes.

After a bit of silence, Sweden spoke up. "You?"

"What?"

"He wants to know if you drink coffee!" Sealand broke in, mouth full of cinnamon roll.

"Um, okay. I don't know," Poland pushed back a lock of hair. "I guess like maybe two cups a day? I dunno."

Sweden nodded. Peter looked bored. Poland totally felt the same way. Well, maybe he should leave. Except they were going back to the same place. Okay, fine, small talk. What else did he know about Sweden?

"So, you like...ABBA?" _Oh my God._ Poland mentally prayed for someone to kill him before the Nordic nation did, if only to keep him from saying anything else so dumb.

Both Sweden and Peter were staring at him.

"No," Sweden looked intently at Poland.

"Huh?"

"I hate them." Sweden seemed to be pissed.

Silence stretched out as both Poland and Sealand stared at him.

"What?" Poland asked, confused. He had thought for sure...

Suddenly Sweden's shoulders started shaking, and he pressed a hand against his mouth. Sealand looked puzzled, but not frightened, so the Nordic nation obviously wasn't dying. Wait. Poland thought he had it. Like, this was crazy. Sweden was laughing.

"Oh my God!" He honestly hadn't thought the other nation had it in him.

"'s joke," Sweden calmed himself but a smile was clearly on his face.

"Jerk," Poland said half-heartedly, but he couldn't help the smile that came up on his own face in response. "I totally fell for it, too."

Sweden smiled back.

"Tossers," Peter muttered, sliding down in his seat to frown at the two of them. "Did you know I'm Sealand?" he asked Poland suddenly.

"Um, what?"

"The great and mighty Sealand! You should recognize me!"

"Um..."

"Time t' go," Sweden stood up.

"But –" Peter said.

Poland stood up too. Sweden was looking rather intensely at his kid.

"C'mon," Sweden told Peter with a frown.

Peter scowled. "Fine."

Outside, Sweden turned to Peter. "Back to the room."

"Okay, okay!"

"Call ya."

"I know," Peter groaned. Poland expected them to leave it at that, but instead, Peter darted forward and hugged Sweden. Sweden looked a bit startled, but his arms readily came down around Peter's shoulders. They actually looked like father and son, it was rather sweet, Poland thought. Poland would never have suspected anything unusual, but then he caught Peter peeking out at him with an odd look in he eye. Whatever that meant.

Then the kid was off and flying down the street, shouting "Cheerio!"

Sweden watched him go and shook his head. He turned and gave Poland a look. "Head back?"

"Yeah, guess so," Poland agreed.

They walked at a slower pace back to the conference building. There was less of a crowd so this time Poland could actually walk next to the taller nation. They were nearly back to the building when Sweden rapidly spoke up.

"Ya have plans?" He cleared his throat. "Fer dinner tonight?"

"Oh, totally. Italy and I are going to this cute little place he was telling me about, it's Italian, I'm sure, but it'll be good, the places he finds always are. I'm sure Germany will be there, but God, hopefully not Prussia, I hate that guy. South Italy might be coming too, he's kind of a downer but if he comes then Spain will too and he totally makes up for him. Why?"

Sweden seemed taken aback for a moment. "No..." he started, then paused. "Jus' was going ta..." He trailed off. "Ask. If you wanted ta go eat wit' me and Peter."

"Oh." Well, this was something. Unexpected? Yes. Awkward? Also yes. Didn't he have Finland and the other Nordics to hangout with? He was practically married to Finland, from what he had heard. Actually, now that he thought about it, where was that guy? It probably looked bad to be going out to lunch without him.

"Well, like, what about Finland?"

Sweden frowned.

"Ohhhh, unless you're – " having problems, Poland almost said, but he totally still had an instinct for preservation.

"We're not t'gether."

"Huh? What?" Had Sweden just said what Poland thought he said?

"Haven't been for awhile."

"Oh my God. Are you serious?"

Sweden turned and looked at him. "Yeah."

"O-oh," was all Poland could say. Damn, they weren't together anymore? That was crazy, amazing good gossip. He couldn't wait to tell Liet.

Sweden didn't say anymore as they entered into the building. He didn't look outwardly different from before, but Poland wondered if he was bothered by the mention of Finland. There was a group of nations mingling at the entrance to the meeting room, and Sweden's footsteps didn't slow.

"Thanks," Sweden said with a nod goodbye, already drifting away towards another one of the Nordic nations.

"I'm free tomorrow night," Poland blurted out. Oh my God, his mouth would be the end of him, for sure.

Sweden paused.

Poland pulled himself up and cocked one hand on his hip. "So you should like, take me out. I mean – whatever, like dinner and stuff, not like take _out _out – just like what you said, not my version. Yeah. Um...yeah." Poland wilted inside. This was so bad, he sounded like America, and ew. No way. He was so much better than that.

"Yeah." Sweden did his quirky little smile.

"Ok, good." Was that relief he felt? He was totally just doing it because he felt bad for the Nordic nation. "Anyways. So, like, thanks for lunch. And stuff." Poland flashed a smile and barely waited for Sweden to say goodbye in turn before heading quickly into the conference room. He sank down into his seat and pulled out his cell phone. Liet was totally missing out on the weirdest conference ever.

Well, maybe not _the_ weirdest, but definitely in the top 5, fer sure.

* * *

Notes:

During the sixteenth century, the Livonian Confederation, composed of part of Estonia and Latvia, pretty much ceased to exist after the Livonian war and its lands were incorporated into the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Sweden and Denmark also took parts, I think.

Kanelbulle is 'cinnamon bun' in Swedish and presumably they originated there as well.


	4. Chapter 4

Translations: mes amis = French for "my friends"

* * *

When the meeting concluded the next day, Poland got up from his seat and looked around for Sweden. Sweden hadn't actually said where they were going or what they were doing, but Poland definitely needed to go back to his hotel room first to change. He had just the right outfit picked out!..._not_ that this was a date or anything, no matter how many times North Italy said it, but Poland had just gotten this new shirt that he was dying to wear.

Poland saw the tall Nordic at the end of the table, hanging out with the rest of the Nordic nations. Poland felt slightly uneasy at walking up to talk to Sweden in front of the rest of them, but whatever. It wasn't like, forbidden to go have dinner with someone.

Poland kept an extra jaunt in his step, even as they all turned to stare at him as he approached. Denmark looked him up and down – what the hell? – heading tilting to the side as Poland walked up and a suspicious smirk on his face. Norway and Iceland looked indifferent or maybe half-asleep or something. Honestly they always look bored, couldn't they like, smile occasionally? Only Finland was smiling openly at him. It looked like even Sweden wasn't all that welcoming. He had a stiff look on his face, Poland thought, at least compared to the few other times Poland had seen him smiling.

"Hi Poland!" Finland broke the silence with a cheerful greeting.

"Hey Finland, how's it going?"

"Great, thanks!"

Poland nodded and looked around at the other nations. "So, um..."

"Right, we should get going!" Finland said, latching arms around Norway and Iceland, the latter looking a bit puzzled. Poland could have sworn he also did something to Denmark, since the tall nation jumped and said, "Oh, yeah! Gotta go."

"See you later!" Finland called over his shoulder as he dragged away the other two nations.

"Yeah, have a _good_ time!" Denmark was chuckling as he followed the rest of the group.

Poland frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Anyways. He turned back to Sweden, who was staring at the departing nations.

Poland cleared his throat to get the other nation's attention. "Hello...?"

Sweden swung his gaze back over to him. "Right."

"Yeah, so, I've gotta get changed first, then we can go."

Sweden didn't say anything, so Poland forged on. "So, like, where should I meet you? Where's this place at?"

Sweden paused and seemed thoughtful. "Pick ya up in the lobby of the 'otel. Seven?"

"Um, okay. I guess that works." It did make things easier. Maybe Sweden would spring for the cab ride, too. Although that meant anyone could see them leave together, and it totally wouldn't help Italy's declaration that this was a date. "See ya at seven!" Poland turned and marched away, back to the hotel to change. He only had like, a little over an hour to get ready. He'd have to be quick.

Poland was down in the lobby a little after seven – nine minutes was hardly late, right? He'd been a little irked that Liet wasn't answering his phone lately – he had a suspicion that the idiot America was calling him after the meeting, just like Poland was trying to do. Whatever. Poland shouldn't be jealous of Liet being happy, he totally deserved it, even if America was kind of the dumbest nation in the world. With terrible fashion sense, too.

Sweden was sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby, flipping through a magazine. His kid sat in the chair next to him, kicking his legs idly and complaining loudly.

"Let's just go! Obviously he's not coming, the wanker!"

"Watch yer mouth," Sweden muttered.

"Um, I'm right here," Poland said, announcing his arrival.

"Finally," Sealand muttered, scowling at him.

"Peter," Sweden rumbled, giving him a look.

"Like, sorry, jeez." If the kid was going to have a fit about it, Poland might as well apologize.

"S'fine," Sweden reassured him. "No reservation," he said as he walked out the front door, leading the way, and Poland could see he was carrying something.

"What do you mean?" Poland followed him. Sealand raced past him, grabbing onto Sweden's free hand. He turned his head around and scowled at Poland. Poland narrowed his eyes but ignored him otherwise, like Liet had recommended. What was that kid's problem anyways?

"S'just down the street."

"The restaurant?" Poland asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

"A park," Sweden was walking slower than usual, probably because of the kid hanging off of him. Poland could easily keep up with his long legs, walking beside him at a steady pace.

"Um, okay?" Was there a restaurant in the park? Or _worse_ – they were going to eat at a hot dog stand, or something equally awful. Poland was going to have flashbacks to the traumatic experience of eating hotdogs with America and Lithuania. He suppressed a shudder.

In a couple of minutes they were walking down a path into a nice green park. Poland saw a couple of street food stands, but they went past them all. Sweden seemed to know where they were going and they sat down on an edge of a water fountain in the middle of a square.

Poland sat down hesitantly as Sweden unpacked and spread out some food on a small coverlet between them.

"Help yerself," Sweden motioned for Poland to take some food.

Poland shrugged and helped himself. The food was pretty good, mostly small snack-like things but pretty tasty. Sweden offered him a choice of flavored water – well, after the brat took the one he liked – and Poland picked the orange-flavored one. All in all, it was so quiet and well, _nice_ that Poland felt a little out of his element. There weren't any loud obnoxious nations to distract them, or even many other humans – mostly a few couples wandering through, holding hands, or families pushing kids in strollers. Sealand was marching around the edge of the fountain that they were sitting on, like any other kid.

"So, like, this is...nice." Although it was a lame thing to say, it was true, Poland had to admit. He'd never have thought they'd end up picnicking in a park, but it wasn't half bad, although Poland would still have preferred a nice, classy establishment with more than three drink options.

Sweden nodded, agreeing.

"I thought we'd go to like, a real restaurant, but this is totally chill."

Sweden nodded again. "S'hard with Peter. He doesn't like t' sit still."

Poland turned to find the kid. Sealand was hopping around the fountain, jumping off of it whenever people happened to be sitting in the way, then running around them to jump back up. "Yeah, totally. He's like a...kid." Poland hadn't been around kids in a long time. He had almost forgotten how high energy they were. As bad as some of the nations he knew, actually.

"S'young," Sweden agreed.

"I can't believe you, like, bought him off of _eBay_."

Sweden nodded. They sat in silence for a moment, munching on their food, before he said, "S'cheap."

Poland nearly choked on his slice of cheese. "No _way_, you did not just say that!"

"S'true."

Poland stared at Sweden and for a second, thought he was serious. Then he saw his blue eyes start to sparkle behind his glasses. Thank god, the tall nation was totally joking. "Oh my god, you are _so_ weird," Poland said, starting to laugh.

Sweden chuckled.

"Like when you said you didn't like ABBA! Oh my god, I just about died," Poland admitted.

"Ever'one says that." Sweden shrugged.

"So, like, you don't like them?" Poland was curious to know.

"I do. Jus', there's more good bands th'n that."

"Well, duh. If that's all you can come up, that's _so_ lame."

"Lots of other good pop 'ere." Sweden took a long drink of his raspberry flavored water. "Better th'n most places."

"As if! You should hear what comes from my place, it's super rad."

"Yeah?"

"Fer sure, we have totally amazing pop music." Poland hummed a few stanzas of one of his current favorites, swaying his shoulders as he sat.

"Hm," Sweden rumbled.

They lapsed into silence. Poland tapped his feet, still thinking about the song.

"I'd like t' hear it," Sweden said quietly.

"Huh?" Oh, the song. "Yeah, totally," Poland agreed, playing idly with the cuffs of his jacket. All this talk about music was making him think of the plans he and Italy had made last night.

"Actually, that so reminds me! Want to go out tomorrow with us? Italy knows this club, the owner of a club I should say, he says it's pretty good."

Sweden blinked behind his eyeglasses. "Club?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know if you're into that stuff, but they'll probably have good music and stuff."

Sweden looked uncertain. His eyes flicked away, towards Peter. Oh, right. Poland had totally forgotten. Maybe he had to watch his kid. But wasn't he old enough to take care of himself? Besides, if he was a nation or whatever, he would be completely fine on his own.

Poland frowned. Wouldn't he? Maybe Sweden needed to take care of him, since he was his dad. Or something. He did act oddly gentle around him, in a way Poland couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Of course, I totally forgot about your kid – it's fine," Poland waved his hand in the air. "Forget it –"

"I'll come," Sweden interrupted him.

"Oh yeah? Sweet! It'll be cool, you'll see." Poland felt rather pleased that Sweden had agreed to go. The Nordic nation wasn't nearly as scary as he'd thought he was. He was actually kind of nice when he wasn't glaring at people.

They watched Sealand run around for a few more minutes. Then Poland yawned.

"I should get back to my hotel. Like, I have so many documents to read before the meetings tomorrow, you know?"

Sweden nodded slowly, and started packing up the remaining food. Poland took what little trash there was over to a trash container and dropped it in. He turned around to walk back and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Sweden bellow, "Peter!"

"Jeez, dude!"

Sweden looked at him and smiled. "Scared?"

"No!" Poland huffed and defended himself. "You're just, like, deafening! They could probably hear you in the next town, god!"

Sweden chuckled. "That bad?"

"Totally," Poland smiled. Sealand ran back right then and stopped in front of his dad, looking back and forth between them.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin'," Sweden ruffled his hair and picked up the picnic bag, turning to go. "Time t'go."

Sealand shot a dark look at Poland before turning and catching up to Sweden, once again latching onto his hand. Seriously, what was up with that kid? Poland mentally shrugged and followed Sweden out of the park.

The walk back to the hotel was fairly quick – the park really was close by, like Sweden said. The lobby was empty, although it really wasn't all that late in the evening. Sweden and Sealand followed Poland back to the elevator. The elevator chimed just then and opened, revealing a half-dressed France. _Ewww_.

"Excuse me," France murmured, stepping out to the side. He cast a lingering glance at the three of them and then _winked_ at Poland.

"Have a good evening, _mes amis_," he tossed over his shoulder as he strolled away.

Sweden grunted a goodbye and got into the elevator with Sealand. He held the door open as Poland frowned at the back of France, retreating into the distance.

"Thanks," Poland muttered as he got in.

"Wh't floor?"

"Twelve."

Sweden punched in the number, plus the four. They rode up in relative silence, and when the elevator stopped at the fourth floor, Sweden turned to Poland.

"Thanks for c'ming out with us."

"Oh yeah, fer sure! It was nice, thanks. See ya tomorrow!"

Sweden nodded and walked off the elevator. Sealand shot him a look and then pushed all the floor buttons in so they lit up before running off the elevator.

"Hey!" Poland snapped. That brat!

Sealand was laughing at him as the door slid shut.

Poland scowled as the elevator went up, slowly, stopping at every floor. Seriously, that kid was _so_ annoying. How did Sweden put up with him? He had way more patience than Poland ever did. That kid didn't deserve to have such a thoughtful guardian, seriously.


	5. Chapter 5

Translations:

Włochy = Italy, in Polish

Litwa = Lithuania, in Polish

Švedija = Sweden, in Lithuanian

Lenkija = Poland in Lithuanian

* * *

Poland was putting the last touches on his going-out outfit – just a little bit of silver eye shadow to bring out the green in his eyes – when his phone rang. Poland picked it up, and to his surprise, it was Lithuania.

"Hey, Liet! What's the occasion?"

"Lenkija," Lithuania's warm voice came through. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, totally not," Poland replied.

"Really? I'm not interrupting you getting ready for, I don't know, your date with _Švedija_?"

"What?" Poland sputtered. "Oh my god, no! Who told you? It was America, wasn't it? That little gossip, he's worse than England, I swear."

Lithuania was laughing at him. _At_ him. Jerk!

"I hate your boyfriend."

"Oh come on," Lithuania cajoled. "I asked him what was new in the conference, and apparently you and Sweden are a hot topic."

"That's like, _so_ stupid. We're just hanging out! Like, totally as friends. God, some of these nations, you'd swear they had nothing else to do," Poland muttered.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! Like, what, you think – how could you think that? I have zero interest in him, I'm like, just doing him a favor by letting him hang out with my rad self, practically."

"Of course, of course," Lithuania said, reassuringly. "I just meant – I wondered, aren't you...worried about him? I mean, I remember the old days, when we were fighting him –"

"God, Litwa, get real. That was like, a million years ago, and no, I'm not afraid of him!" Poland nearly ran a frustrated hand through his hair and ruined all the good work he had done. "He's not that bad, anyways. Okay, sure, he's kind of quiet, but he's actually kind of funny and nice, believe it or not."

"Nice?" Lithuania repeated.

"Yeah, like, um." Poland thought quickly. "Like, to his kid – you know, the one that ran me over, the bratty one?"

Lithuania hummed an affirmation.

"Okay, so like, he's _nice_ to the kid. Like, he takes him to the park, and buys him sandwiches, and oh! When we went to this coffee shop he ate half of the kid's sandwich since he didn't want it, and gave his to the kid, which I thought was way too good of him, honestly, that kid is soooo whiny, Liet, I don't know why the hell anyone would want a kid, anyways. _I_ probably would have slapped the brat around, but he just _looks_at him, and the kid behaves." Poland trailed off. There was silence on the other end. "Hey, where'd you go?"

Lithuania cleared his throat with a little cough. "I see. So, you're telling me, that he acts like a _father_?"

"Huh?" Poland's first reaction was to scoff, but on second thought... There was a huge difference between taking care of another nation – and Poland had seen how _some_ nations took care of others under their reign – helloooo, Russia – and actually treating them like, well. A family.

"Well, I dunno, I guess. Yeah." Poland swallowed and looked into the mirror. He smoothed out the neck of his shirt. It was strange to think of Sweden as a _dad_ and god, that's what he totally acted like, wasn't it? Even Poland's extremely limited knowledge on what a family would or should be like – he'd had no one, in the beginning, and the first nation he'd ever met had been on a battlefield. Even his relationship with Lithuania had begun as a partnership, purely political, coming long after he had come into maturity as a nation.

"Hm, I wouldn't have guessed," Lithuania confessed softly.

"I know, right?" Poland forced a laugh. "Like, weird, huh?"

"Mhmm," Lithuania murmured. "Well, I should let you go get ready. Be careful, okay? Should I ask America to go wi–"

"What? No, Liet, stop, jeez," Poland rolled his eyes.

"Okay, okay. Have a good night," Lithuania wished him warmly.

"'Night, Liet," Poland said and hung up the phone. That conversation had put a sort of uneasy feeling in his mind and he sighed as he did a once-over. He was _so_ ready for Italy to get here so they could get to the club.

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Italy clapped his hands as they entered into the club. "Don't you think – look at those crystals!" He said, admiring the design they had decorated with.

"Yeah, it's okay," Poland agreed. There was something kind of old fashioned in the red velvet covering the booths, but if you liked that kind of thing, sure. Germany looked like he might be in agreement with Poland, staring at the furniture with furrowed eyebrows.

"Should we see if Sweden is here yet? Ohh – there's a second floor!" Italy looked about ready to run around the entire place to find the other nations.

"You two sit down and I'll go look," Germany ordered sternly, and Poland rolled his eyes. "And no nation names –" Although fortunately for them, the music was loud enough, and as it was early, there were few humans around to catch them speaking.

"Can you get us a drink, Germany? Please~," Italy said, oblivious, already wandering off to sit down. Poland quickly followed him.

"Yeah, like get me one too, kay?" Poland tossed over his shoulder.

Germany sighed and headed towards the bar.

Poland slid into the seat next to Italy. Italy smiled and flung an arm around him.

"I'm so glad you came! And Sweden, too, ve~"

Poland rolled his eyes again. "Włochy, seriously, like, _we're not together_."

The other nation just smiled at him, eyes curving. "But you're so perfect together!"

Poland rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time in the last hour. "Like, what are you smoking?"

"I don't smoke!" Italy chirped, the reference going over his head. "Oh look~"

Poland turned, expecting to see Germany coming back with their drinks, but instead he saw the entire pack of Nordic nations heading towards them. And, surprisingly enough, Estonia was with them. The Baltic nation waved nervously at him when he saw Poland glaring. Where had he been hiding this whole time?

"Feliks, Feliciano! How are you both?" Finland, as usual, was the first to speak, warmly greeting the two of them.

"Wonderful! I'm so happy you came!" Italy leapt up to greet everyone with a hug, surprising the more reticent nations with a kiss hello – on both cheeks. Poland had never seen Iceland blush so hard, although Norway took it like a champ, never changing expression. Even Sweden looked vaguely embarrassed, bending down to let Italy air-kiss the space around his face. (Denmark, of course, just grinned. So lame.)

"Hey, Feliks." Estonia was settling into the seat next to Poland, and Poland scowled at him.

"Like, what the hell! Where have you been?"

Estonia shrugged and looked a bit embarrassed. "Sorry, I've been avoiding R - Ivan." Poland was annoyed, but he could totally understand that. Although he would have been more than willing to stand up for Estonia if he had only asked.

"Are you doing okay?" Estonia leaned in close to Poland, voice low.

"Huh? Fine," Poland said, blinking and leaning back. When had Estonia gotten so loose with personal space?

"I heard that –" Estonia was cut off as Finland appeared at his side, tugging at his arm.

"Eduard, what are you two talking so seriously about?" Finland smiled and leaned into the Baltic nation. "Let's go get something to drink! Feliks, would you like something?'

"No, thanks, Ludwig's supposed to be getting me someth–"

"Okay!" And with that, Finland pulled Estonia away, who looked over his shoulder for a moment before following the short Nordic nation.

Well, that was odd, but whatever. Poland looked around him. The other nations were standing close by, talking or looking bored, depending on who you were looking at. Poland wondered if he should go drag Italy back to the table – currently he was nowhere to be found, which was probably something to be concerned about – but in the next moment he saw Sweden standing to the side of the group, looking at him.

Poland waved at him and the tall Nordic nation took a step towards him, but Poland's view was suddenly blocked as Denmark plopped down in the chair in front of him.

"So, what's up, Feliks my man?" He took a big gulp out of his beer bottle and banged it down on the table in between them. He grinned, showing a big mouthful of white teeth.

Poland tossed his head and leveled a stare at the (other) tall Nordic nation. "Nothing, how are you?" He said evenly, since it wouldn't exactly do to piss off a strong nation like Denmark – not that he was scared, or anything.

"Great! Feeling pretty good, actually," he said, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms out. "I think I still got the moves, even after all these years," he said, flexing one arm.

"Um...okay." Poland gave him a dubious look.

"You get what I mean?" Denmark added, his eyebrows lifting as his smile sharpened.

"Um." Poland mentally ran through his options; should he be running away right now?

"Did I mention that I have an axe?"

Germany arrived right then with three drinks in his hands. "Where's Italy?" he asked, putting the bottles down on the table and looking around anxiously.

"I don't know, I'll help you look!" Poland leapt up and grabbed Germany's arm, and after a moment of tugging Germany's arm – wow, so much of what Italy said made sense now, the guy really was built, and _ew_ – he moved slowly after Poland towards the opposite side of the room.

"We should split up. You take the upstairs and I'll start on the first floor. We'll meet in ten minutes by the front door."

"Well – alright, fine," Poland sighed. It would be really great to have Germany around if Denmark started acting crazy again, but whatever. Poland could handle it if he had too. It would suck to ruin his manicure so quickly, though.

He walked upstairs and surveyed the top part of the club. This was apparently the dance floor, and had a few humans milling around the edge, several couples cuddled close together. And sweet, they had a bar! Poland headed over there – sure, Germany had bought him a drink, but he wasn't about to go downstairs anytime soon, Denmark was still down there.

Poland picked up his drink and surveyed the room. He didn't see Italy, but maybe he was hidden behind someone else. Poland walked the perimeter, ignoring a couple of humans who looked like they wanted to chat him up. He was wandering back towards the stairway, no Italians located, when he was intercepted by Finland and Estonia.

"There you are!" Finland looked concerned.

"Yeah, I'm looking for Feliciano, have you seen him?"

"No. What are you doing up here?"

"Um, I just said –"

"I know, come on, let's go downstairs!" Finland wrapped a hand around his arm and urged him towards the stairs.

"Okay, like, what are you so hot and bothered about?" Poland removed his arm and glared at him and then towards Estonia. Estonia shrugged and frowned at Finland.

"Yes, what's downstairs exactly?" Estonia echoed.

Finland turned and gave him a look, one hand resting on his hip. "Oh, come on, Eduard. Don't be like that."

"Like, what are you guys talking about?" Poland demanded to know. The two were good friends, he knew, but they were acting oddly.

"Nothing," they said at the same time, and both looked at each other in surprise.

"Eduard!" Finland crowded next to Estonia and they argued in hushed voices that Poland could pretty easily hear.

"You're being ridiculous. You lived with him, you know he's not that bad." Finland poked a finger into Estonia's chest.

"But _you_ didn't exactly enjoy being under rule, either." Estonia pushed his glasses further up his nose and crossed his arms.

"That's completely different! And years ago –"

Poland waved a hand in front of them. "Hellooo. I can totally hear you guys." They both looked toward him, but didn't spring apart.

"Well, nevermind that right now," Finland said, sliding his arm into the crook of Estonia's elbow. "We should look for Italy! How about you head downstairs, Feliks –"

"Ohmygod." Poland pointed to them. "You two. You're both. No way!"

Finland blinked at him. "You mean..." He turned to Estonia and looked up at him. "You didn't tell him?"

"Uh, not yet," Estonia said, and Poland could tell he was embarrassed.

"No, like, that's rad! You two are so cute!" Poland said and smiled at Estonia. Then the thought occurred to him. "Wait, so Liet –"

"He knows," Estonia confirmed, but then he paused. "Not many others do, though," he added anxiously and looked at Poland. "We'd prefer to keep it that way, actually."

"Oh, fer sure." Poland could actually keep a secret, unlike _some_ nations. And besides, Lithuania would kill him if he let the secret out – or at least lecture him until he died of boredom. "Cross my heart and everything."

Estonia gave him a crooked smile and Finland grinned at him. "See, I told you!" he turned toward Estonia and said in a mock whisper. Estonia shook his head and his smile widened as he looked down at Finland.

"Wow. I like, totally did not expect the two of you together," Poland said with a shake of his head. Although they were so damn sweet, it made Poland's teeth hurt. And it really did confirm that Sweden wasn't with Finland anymore. Sure, he had told Poland, but wow. It was like, crazy to think it was true. "I think I need another drink."

"Great! Let's head downstairs and meet up with everyone again," Finland said.

Poland shrugged and they went back downstairs. The place was starting to get a little more crowded with people as the evening got later, and Poland saw that a couple of other nations had arrived – South Italy was scowling at Germany and had an arm around his brother's neck. Poland almost missed Sweden standing against the wall, looking out in the distance. He was tall enough, sure, but he was like, practically blending into the wall.

"Hey!" Poland squirmed around a body and came to stand next to Sweden. "Having fun?"

Sweden shrugged. "You?"

"Yeah, it's been weird, but fun." _Weird_ didn't even really begin to cover it, but whatever. As soon as the music started it'd be like a million times better. At least then no one would be paying attention to him.

Sweden nodded. He held a bottle in one hand and his other was tucked in his pocket as he leaned against the wall. He looked pretty good, Poland could admit. Although there wasn't anything outstanding about his clothes, there was something very clean and classic about his style, which Poland could admire.

"I like your shirt!" Poland said, because he did. "It's totally chill."

Sweden glanced down at himself and then up at Poland. "Thanks. I, ah." He waved a hand towards Poland. "Y'look great," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes staring fixedly in the distance, over the heads of other people.

"Well, yeah, duh," Poland tossed his head and grinned, and Sweden met his eyes with a smile of his own. That was good. Poland was starting to wonder if seeing Finland and Estonia was too weird for the nation. Like, it was weird enough for Poland, what must it be like for Sweden? Poland raised his drink and finished it in a single swallow. The cup was slipped out of his hand in a moment, Sweden capturing it with a single big hand.

"I'll g't you anot'er," he said, and Poland chirped back, "Totally!" He was like, too sweet. Hard to believe that Finland wouldn't want him!

He watched the tall nation walk over through the crowd. Again, most people moving out of the way for him, something that Poland was coming to envy. And then he turned his head to meet the hard stare of Norway.

The silent Nordic nation stared at Poland. Poland blinked and stared back. Denmark was there, looping an arm around Norway's neck and grinning at Poland. Poland felt a cold chill sweep down his back. What in the world was up with these Nordics tonight? Seriously, all of them were acting strange. Poland searched around behind the two nations – there was South Italy, scowling murderously – he'd be no help at all – and Prussia, two beers in one hand – who invited _that_ guy – and America.

"Alfred!" Poland had never felt more relieved to see the nation, not that he'd _ever_ admit that.

America turned around at the sound of his voice and practically flew towards them. "Guys!" His voice boomed, and the people around them turned to see what the commotion was about. Poland winced. That guy had _no_ volume control. Poor Liet must be deaf by now.

"Dude!"

"Dude!" Both Denmark and America bumped fists, and if Poland didn't know better, he'd say that Norway was holding back an eye-roll at the two blonde's antics.

"Feliks, what's up?" America turned the full force of his personality towards him and clapped his on the shoulder. It hurt a little, but Poland was totally tough and pretended otherwise. "Like, great, and you?" He responded through his teeth.

"Doin' good, man," America said confidently, and then leaned closer to Poland, sliding his hand around to hang off of Poland's shoulder.

"You okay, dude?" He peered into Poland's face.

"Yeah, fine," Poland huffed, waving a hand in front of his face to get the burger breath off of him.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." Poland frowned at America. God, he was totally reporting on him to Lithuania, wasn't he?

America shrugged and leaned back, although his arm – which was not particularly light, thanks very much – remained on Poland's shoulder. "Okay, but I'm the one who gets in trouble if you're not, ya dig?"

Poland rolled his eyes. And that was his problem how? "Duh," he responded. Norway and Denmark were staring, and although Norway's expression didn't change, Denmark leveled Poland a glare.

America started talking about some music or something or other, oblivious to the tension. Poland was just about to squirm out from under his arm and escape – god, how many times would he have to, like, do that tonight? – when Sweden entered back into their circle.

He handed Poland his drink silently, eyes on America.

"Thanks!" Poland smiled and took his drink. Sweden didn't say anything, but his eyes met Poland's. Then his gaze slid up back towards America and he looked away.

There was a crash of music, echoing through the room, loud enough to be heard over the din of chatter. People started moving towards the stage, wherever that was, and Poland shrugged America's arm off. America was still talking to anyone who would listen, even over the loud sounds of music.

Poland turned towards Sweden. "Hey, let's go get a spot!" He yelled over the noise, tapping the Nordic nation's arm to get his attention.

Sweden jerked his head toward him at the noise, and stared intently into Poland's eyes. He mumbled something that Poland couldn't catch and shook his head.

"What?" Poland raised himself on his toes, trying to hear the quiet nation's voice.

"–somethin' to do," Sweden was muttering slightly louder, not looking at Poland. He shrugged Poland's hand away and took a step back. "Thanks f'r," he waved a hand in the general direction of the club, and Poland couldn't quite hear what he said, beyond a "See ya later."

"What!" Poland said.

Sweden tossed his bottle in the trash with his back to Poland, not hearing him, or worse, _ignoring_ him, and stepped through the crowd of people. Poland saw his blond hair flash for a moment, above the heads of most people, as he disappeared out the door.

"Like. What. The. Hell." Poland snapped and put his hand on his hip. The Swede had acted like he was mad, but his face had said otherwise. Well, that wasn't quite true. His face almost always looked stoic, but his eyes hadn't met Poland's the whole time through the last interaction. It couldn't be 'cause he was mad. Poland had seen the Nordic nation angry and that was, like scary enough to imprint on his mind forever. No, this time it was different.

Poland huffed to himself and turned to find the rest of the nations. Like, he couldn't waste the rest of the night thinking about Sweden! He squeezed past Prussia, slapping his hand away when he tried to get too friendly, to stand beside Italy, avoiding the Nordics. The last thing he wanted to do was to get involved with any of _them_. They were like, so dramatic it was killing him.

The rest of the night was fun, entertaining enough for Poland, especially watching Prussia and Romano Italy argue with each other. America didn't help, egging them both on until they turned against him and Germany had to interfere to stop South Italy from too much violence. And all of this during some pretty good music, so Poland had to wonder how much they could even hear each other.

But as much as he enjoyed himself, he couldn't stop from feeling like something was not quite right. It was enough to like, totally ruin a guy's night.


	6. Chapter 6

I've pretty much given up on historical notes, at this point.

* * *

For such a big guy, Sweden was surprisingly hard to find when Poland was actually looking for him. Chewing on his lip, Poland looked around the meeting room. They had just finished their meeting – no less than a half hour behind schedule, of course – but most of the other nations remained, hanging around and chatting politely, or giving each other evil eyes from across the room.

Sweden had been pretty non-committal during the meeting, although he had nodded and given him what Poland assumed was a smile. Well, it totally seemed like it. Poland was even gonna ask him to lunch, but then Hungary had distracted him, and the next thing he knew, the tall Nordic nation had disappeared. Presumably to lunch, but Poland was tiny bit disappointed that Sweden hadn't even waited for him. Like, c'mon, he'd been practically all over Poland the entire week, he couldn't like, hold his horses for a minute?

Anyways. Poland tucked his hair behind his ear and impatiently packed away his materials. The next best thing was a phone call, right? Although somehow, the entire week had almost gone by and he had yet to exchange numbers with the tall Nordic nation. But he could totally just ask Finland for the guy's phone number, no prob.

And speaking of – Finland popped up right next to his elbow with a cheerful smile on his face.

"Hey, Poland! Going out tonight?"

"Finland! I wanted to ask you, like, a question."

Finland latched onto his arm as Poland picked up his briefcase. He was totally touchy feely once you got to know him, which was super cutesy but not annoying – yet, Poland thought.

"Well, let's go somewhere we can talk! Estonia, here!" Finland waved his free arm and Estonia turned towards them with a slight blush on his cheek. He excused himself from the other nations and joined the two of them as they exited the room.

"So what did you want to ask me?" Finland let go of Poland's arm and wrapped his hand around Estonia's. Estonia looked pleased and embarrassed at the same time, turning a pretty shade of pink.

"Oh yeah. Well, um, do you have Sweden's cell phone number?"

"Sure!" Finland looked puzzled. "He didn't give it to you?"

"Um, no, somehow we never exchanged numbers. Can I get it from you?"

Estonia shot him a look, but Finland beamed. "Of course!"

"But he didn't give it to him..."

"Oh, hush!" Finland bumped shoulders with Estonia, who looked slightly put out.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Poland asked, crossing his arms and glaring at Estonia.

"Well," Estonia seemed to wilt under Poland's glare and he cleared his throat. "I think the main question is, why would _you_ want his number?" He eyed Poland suspiciously, and Finland's gaze on him intensified too.

"Um..."

"Oh Eduard, stop picking on him! It's obvious why."

"What?" Poland asked but Estonia interrupted him.

"Obvious? I was around back then, when Sweden was out conquering. He hasn't changed at all. He's still just as bad, only –"

"That's not true at all," Finland insisted.

"He didn't want to let you go, did he?"

"Well –" Finland looked annoyed. He dropped Estonia's hand. "That's different. We talked it over, and he just took awhile to adjust, that's all."

"Now he's just switching his goal to Poland."

"Um, what?" Poland was flabbergasted. "You think he's trying to take over me?"

Estonia nodded, resolute, and even Finland looked concerned, eyebrows knitting together as he studied Poland. They were quite the pair, Poland thought, acting like mother hens and butting into everyone's business. He started to laugh.

"Oh my god, really! You guys are killing me! Sweden isn't trying to conquer me, he's way too sweet to do that. Granted, his face totally looks like homicidal maniac, but you should see him around his kid. Completely different person."

Estonia and Finland exchanged glances. "You mean, the child that he _bought_ online?" Estonia asked in a disbelieving tone, like he wasn't obsessed with online stuff. What were those weird dough things he was always buying?

"Well, whatever. So what if he bought him, at least he takes care of him. He treats him like his own son, seriously. It's weird, but..." Poland thought about their day at the park. "It's nice, you know?"

Estonia looked doubtful. Finland beamed at Poland. "It's so great how much you care for him!"

"Oh. Well, I wouldn't say – " Poland started.

"Here's his number. You should definitely call him, I know he wants to talk more with you!" Finland looped his arm back through Estonia's. Estonia studied Poland.

"You really think...you'll be okay?" Estonia asked him, concerned. He was always worrying, Poland thought. In some cases worse than Lithuania, seriously.

"Yeah! He's totally great, come on. You should give him a chance," Poland tossed his hair back and smiled. "He'd be totally fine with you two dating, I bet!"

Estonia blanched and Finland's smile slipped just a tiny bit. "S-sure, yes! I think you should get a hold of him right away," Finland said. "You two will be great together!" Finland called over his shoulder as he steered Estonia away.

"Two – whoa whoa wait –" Poland gave up as the two disappeared. "So not cool," he muttered. "We are _not_ going out, how many times do I have to say that?" Although he wasn't exactly _against_ the idea – well, he really didn't know the guy that well! Poland flipped his phone open and scrolled down his contacts. Just because Sweden was tall, in great shape, had a silly sense of humor that Poland liked – didn't mean he wanted to _date_ the Nordic nation, or anything.

He took a breath and hit the _send_ button.

The fuzzy sound of a ring echoed multiple times in his ear, until Poland was sure that Sweden was screening his call, like Poland did sometimes when he didn't recognize the number that was calling him. Ugh, he should have thought of a message to leave before dialing.

"Hello?" A thin, young sounding voice answered.

"Hello? Is this...um, Sweden?" Poland hoped it was. If not, some poor human was going to have a 'prank' pulled on him.

"'course," Sweden answered after a moment, voice dropping to a growl.

"Great. You totally sounded like someone else for a second! It's Poland, by the way. Like how are you?"

"Fine," Sweden was as typically short on words on the phone as he was in real life.

"Rad. So, like, you want to get a _fika_ now? I was totally looking for you after the meeting, but you were gone! Or are you having dinner? Do you want to have dinner? You totally missed out last night, leaving the club early – you have got to hear what happened to Denmark and Prussia and America after –"

"The club! Why the bloody hell would he be out with you! That jerk!"

Ohhhhh. Totally not Sweden.

"Hey, this is – you're – is this Peter?"

"It's SEALAND!"

Poland winced and held the phone away from his ear. "Ouch, jeez, kid. Like break my eardrum will you."

"You suck," Peter hissed.

"Hey!"

"I don't know why Berwald even likes you – you're a daft arsehole and you talk too much and you dress weird and – "

"Hey!" Poland snapped again, louder. "What is your problem? I didn't do anything to you. Remember, you ran into me!"

Peter huffed into the phone. "That was an accident, you prat! Besides, I didn't know you would be..." he trailed off.

"Didn't what?"

"You shouldn't even be hanging 'round him!"

Poland rolled his eyes. "He invited me to do things, okay? That's what friends do."

The other end of the line was silent. "Friends?" Peter said, and he sounded unsure.

"Duh," Poland said, although it occurred to him that maybe Peter was nasty because there were so few people who acted friendly towards Sweden. It would be pretty weird to have someone randomly pop up into your life, he guessed.

"Your dad's pretty cool, you know. He's funny and generous and thoughtful...who wouldn't want to be friends with him?" Poland said, trying to reassure Peter. It was true, though, and nations like Estonia were totally wrong in thinking otherwise.

"Y-yeah," Peter said, and he sounded surprised. For a second. Then he sounded mean again. "So you better not screw anything up," he snapped.

"Huh?"

"I know Denmark! And he has an axe! And _I'm_ made of steel!"

"Okay..." Poland drawled. "Um, can I talk to Sweden?"

"He's not here. And he left his phone at the hotel room, so he obviously doesn't want to be bothered."

"Right. So, will you tell him –"

"Bye!" And Peter hung the phone up.

_Kids_. "Brat!" Poland hissed, and glared at the phone. Guess he would be talking to Sweden tomorrow, then.


	7. Chapter 7

Poland nodded at the Nordic group when he entered into the conference room the next morning. He felt kind of exhausted, actually, but he had taken extra precautions to look totally amazing as usual – two silver studded barrettes crisscrossed over his left ear, holding his hair back, and some super gorgeous silk shirt under his regular jacket that made him feel fabulous, not to mention the gold-flecked nail polish he had done his nails with – his boss would be mad, but whatever. It was the last day of the conference.

Finland smiled at him, at least, but everyone else in the group looked grumpy or pissed off or whatever. Sweden nodded at him, and Poland couldn't help himself from giving a little wave. Denmark scowled at him, but it was totally worth it, Poland thought.

Ugh. He went to his seat and sat down heavily. He felt so tired today, even with all his fabulous accessories. He had stayed up way too late thinking about Sweden – about _being friends_ with him, that is. It was so odd that they had just suddenly been hanging out and it wasn't anything like Poland had expected. It was fun and relaxing and Sweden never asked him weird questions or brought up the past or tried to tell him what to do. And he was funny and bought Poland things and _oh crap_ that was when Poland had realized something was like, maybe going on.

All things that friends did for each other, though. Poland tried to look alert as the meeting got started. America was talking first, that that either meant there'd be a huge argument or everyone would be too shell-shocked by his impossibly outlandish suggestions to say anything.

So they were friends, Poland mused. Which was great, Poland didn't have a lot of friends, he'd be glad to have someone else to hang out with at the world meetings. The kid, Peter, had totally thrown him off being all protective of his father figure. It was sweet and maybe a tiny bit painful at the same time, that they had that kind of family thing going on but at it also reminded him that Poland didn't.

And now once the thoughts were in there they wouldn't get out of his mind. Liet was no help, not answering his phone, and Poland eventually gave up, not wanting to bother him. Who he really wanted to talk to was Sweden, actually. If only to say goodbye when the conference ended, Poland thought, twisting a strand of hair in his fingers while staring blankly forward. It might actually be a relief to go back home and not have to deal with this random weirdness for awhile.

A couple of times, Poland glanced stealthily down the table towards Sweden, but Sweden never seemed to be looking at him. That was it for a pretty boring conference, so Poland tried to be proactive. He sent Sweden a text, hoping he had his phone on him and it wasn't in the clutches of the brat, asking it he wanted to do another _fika_ before he left at the end of the conference.

To his relief – just a tiny, little bit, okay – his phone buzzed in his pocket and Poland snuck a glance at it to see Sweden's _Sure_ brightening up the screen.

That was rad. Now all he had to do was make it through the rest of the meeting.

Which was easy enough, when you had a cell phone with internet connection. Poland didn't even bother to take notes – the last day of conferences was generally a mess, anyways, and pretty soon Germany adjourned the meeting while the usual suspects were fighting and the rest of the calmer, somewhat more mature nations left the room.

Poland bounced over to Sweden, who was hanging back, waiting for him outside in the hallway.

"Hey!" Poland smiled and smoothed his hair back.

Sweden grunted and nodded. "Shou'ld we go?"

"Oh, sure! Did you need to get Peter or check on him or whatever?"

Sweden looked down. "No, 's fine."

"'kay, let's go back to the first place!" Poland said cheerfully and lead the way.

Sweden walked next to him. Poland wasn't really that short but somehow he felt secure next to Sweden's tall figure.

"T'anks for asking," Sweden murmured, and Poland glanced over.

"For...?" About the _fika_? Well, weren't they friends?

"'Bout Peter. Nice ta include 'im," Sweden nodded and sent a half-smile Poland's way.

"Oh! Well, yeah, he's like, your family and stuff," Poland mumbled and glanced straight ahead. "Anyways! What'd you think about the meeting today?"

Sweden arched an eyebrow. "No thinkin' involved."

Poland laughed. "Yeah, totally. Sometimes it's just a waste of time. Lets me catch up on my emails and facebook, you know?" And every other possible social media Poland was involved in.

"Paying bills."

Poland choked on a laugh. "Say what?"

Sweden grinned at him. "Or taxes."

"Nuh-uh, you wouldn't." Poland was smiling.

"Only once."

"You did not!"

Sweden paused for a minute and then shook his head. "Thought it 'bout it, though."

"Yeah, totally. I like, always end up buying things I don't need. It's way too easy to impulse shop during those things. As I'm sure you know," Poland added slyly. He couldn't help himself.

Sweden tilted his head and looked at Poland as he held the door open – they had just gotten to the coffee shop.

"Buying other nations off the internet, duh!"

Sweden blinked at him and then his shoulders started to shake. Poland grinned, feeling pleased to make the Nordic nation laugh so hard. "S'true," he admitted, lips curling in a smile. "What'ya want?" He asked as they got to the counter.

"Hey, I got it! I asked you, ya know," Poland waved a hand.

"No, 's fine," Sweden started.

"Hey, no arguing! I said I got it, jeez," Poland sent an elbow into Sweden's side and Sweden's eyes widened.

"Arrghh," he groaned, falling into the counter, clutching his side, and Poland burst out laughing.

"Yeah, like that hurt! Get up, you are way too silly today!" He felt a warm glow that this was going so well. Him and Sweden were totally friends, what had he been worrying about last night?

Sweden straightened and nodded. "Side effect of th' meetings."

Poland's face was going to hurt, he was smiling so much. "Sounds serious."

They paused to order their drinks, and Sweden leaned down to say in a dark tone as they went to grab a table. "Very serious."

"Deadly?" Poland asked, mock concerned.

"No known cure," Sweden said, mournfully.

Poland snorted. "Oh my god! That is tragic."

Sweden looked at him in all seriousness and nodded. "'s spreading, too," he said in a low whisper.

Poland placed a hand against his heart dramatically. "Oh my god! We're done for!"

Sweden sat, eyes on Poland. He hesitated for a second and then reached out a hand to grasp Poland's. His skin was warm to the touch and Poland held himself very still.

"There's only one thin' y' can do," Sweden said, tugging on Poland's hand. Poland leaned forward in response. _Oh my god_, he thought stupidly, and felt ridiculous at how fast his heart was beating.

Sweden took a breath and glanced from side to side, as if the customers in the shop were listening in on their conversation. "Ice cream."

Poland stared. "That's it?"

Sweden nodded. "When w's the last time y' had some?"

"Uh – "

"Ex'ctly." Sweden drew back, removing his hand, and took a sip of his drink.

"You're such a weirdo," Poland said, but he felt himself smile anyways, his heart slowing back to normal.

"Esp'cially _salmiaklakrits_ice cream," Sweden added. "Salty licorice," he clarified at Poland's puzzled look.

"Eww." Poland wrinkled his nose. "Okay, I might have, like, believed you before, but not now!"

It was Sweden's turn to stare. "Ya don' like _salmiaklakrits_?"

Poland shook his head. "No way. Okay, I've never had the ice cream!" He admitted under Sweden's look.

Sweden shook his head. "Can' believe you've never had th' ice cream..."

Poland shrugged a shoulder and propped up his chin on his hand. "I've never had a lot of Swedish things, huh?" He smiled at Sweden and Sweden smiled a little back and adjusted his glasses. He looked really cute when he got flustered. It made Poland want to do it more often.

Sweden cleared his throat and stared off in the distance. And all of a sudden he was done talking, Poland mused. They sat in silence for a long moment. "Y' could, ah. C'me visit?" Sweden said quietly, although he trailed off at the end.

"You mean..." Poland started, staring at Sweden, who was resolutely looking away. Well, Poland was totally going to be brave for the both of them! "Like a date?"

Sweden's cheeks turned pink. "Yup," he said, and then he finally glanced at Poland.

"Well yeah, duh," Poland said cheekily, and smiled. Sweden grinned back at him, and it was totally not scary at all.

"Except..."

Sweden peered down at him over the rim of his glasses. "Mm?"

"You have to come to Poland, too, and try out our coffee!"

Swede smiled. "Agreed."

"And our pop music is pretty awesome, too."

"Hmm."

"Better than ABBA." Poland hid a grin.

Sweden shot him an incredulous look. "What."

"Totally."

A pause. "Y' need the ice cream now. Clearly still feelin' the side eff'cts..."

"No, I'm like, completely cured, now, I'm sure of it."

Sweden shook his head. "Desp'rate words fr'm an ill person."

Poland was giggling. "No!"

"Yup."

"Stop it."

"D'nt want to." Sweden said quietly and ducked his head down to take a drink from his glass. He had the cute little side smile, the one that Poland had noticed first from when they started hanging out.

"Then don't," Poland said, and Sweden looked up. Their eyes met, green and blue, and Poland was sure his smile was as goofy as Sweden's was.

* * *

The end.

Random notes: The Swedes really like ice cream. (who doesn't, though!)

_salmiaklakrits_: salty black licorice. Common in the Nordic countries, northern Germany, the Netherlands, and the Baltic states. I've had some from the Netherlands and also from Iceland, and I'm with Poland on that one. Ugh. I don't like black licorice to begin with, so I'm obviously biased! An acquired taste, I guess.

This is so totally cheesy and cute. :p Thanks for reading! There's a smutty epilogue, which I will post eventually in my LJ, so you can check that out later if you're so inclined.


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